If You Should Die Before I Wake
by PipMer
Summary: After the battle at the Black Gate, Merry receives word of Pippin's condition. Despair and hope battle for Merry's spirit as he journeys to Pippin's side. My second fanfic please R&R!


"_Dear Merry:_

_Let me start off first by saying that all of your friends are alive. They are in different states of wholeness, but none were killed. I hope this eases your anxieties somewhat._

_Now, the best news first. Frodo and Sam have been brought back to us! They successfully completed the quest, and are now back in our midst, healing. Aragorn has put them in a restful sleep, and they shall remain so for a few days yet. They have both been through much, but should both make a complete recovery in time._

_Now, let us get to the matter of the one dearest to you. Peregrin is a hero; he saved Beregond's life by killing a troll that was about to skewer him. Words cannot express how proud I am of your young cousin. He was as brave as any man who marched with us. He is still holding his own, but he has been gravely injured. The silly Took found himself buried beneath the troll after stabbing him. Gimli found him, and Aragorn has steadily worked his healing upon him. He is much improved, but still wanders in dreams. He has not yet awakened._

_Merry, it is time for you to join us here and be reunited with the fellowship. Aragorn believes that once you are here, Pippin will fight harder to return knowing that you wait for him. Please join the first supply wains that start out._

_Yours, Gandalf."_

Slowly Merry folded the parchment and set it aside. Shakily, he sat upon the bed ... Pippin's bed. He had taken to sleeping in Pippin's room after he had set out for the Black Gate. He had felt too lonely in his own room.

He remembered the last 2 hours he had spent with Pip before he had left. They had taken breakfast together in Merry's room, and afterward they had sat outside on the balcony, smoking their pipes. The silence had lain heavy between them; there had been nothing left to say. All Merry could think about was that Pippin was leaving him .. again. Part of him fully expected to never see his cousin again, and the expectation of grief had welled up in him with force.

Now, finally, all of the waiting was over. And he felt many emotions at once. Immense relief had washed over him as soon as he had read Gandalf's first sentence. Alive! Everyone was alive...and that must include Pippin. Indescribable joy when he read that Sam and Frodo had returned. Beyond all hope, they had survived.

But the letter had simply stated that everyone was alive; Gandalf had been careful to make clear that not everyone was whole. And what he continued to read about Pippin caused fear to seize at Merry's heart. Pippin might still succumb to his injuries. Gandalf had not gone into great detail about what sort of injuries Pippin has sustained, but they were serious enough to keep him unconscious for several days.

Merry needed to be there. If Pippin were to leave him for a third and final time, he needed to be there before that happened, so that he could comfort his cousin as best he could. And so that he would be among friends when it came his turn to be comforted.

And Gandalf had known this. He had known that if Pippin died while Merry was still in Minas Tirith, that Merry would never recover.

Finally, it was all too much. Merry hadn't cried once since the company had left for the Black Gate .. in fact, he hadn't cried at all during the entire quest, except briefly and silently after Gandalf had fallen in Moria. Now, it was all he could do not to broadcast his misery to the entire city. Hot tears streamed from his closed eyes, hitching breath trying not to let sobs break out too loudly.

If he had only been there, he though irrationally. If he had been allowed to go and fight alongside Pippin, he would have been able to keep him from harm. He would have pulled Pippin away from the falling troll, and they would have been together to celebrate the victory. No sadness, no tears. Just happiness. And sheer joy once Frodo and Sam had been delivered to their midst. Why hadn't he been allowed to go!!

Gulping, he tried to get a hold of himself. "Stop it, Merry. Why are you grieving so when nothing has happened yet?" Except something HAD happened; his Pippin lay hurt, perhaps dying, in a field far away from his Merry.

Giving up, Merry threw himself onto the bed and gave way to his tears. Smothering his face in the pillows, he hoped to muffle most of the noise he was making. The last thing he wanted was for the folk of Minas Tirith to wonder what had come over this brave, heroic halfling that would reduce him to such. Brave and heroic indeed; Pippin was the brave one...and this thought produced a whole new torrent of tears.

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Faramir had enjoyed getting to know Merry while they were both healing from their injuries. Now he had had the privilege of meeting all four of them, and what a pleasure it had been. Hobbits had a talent of worming their way into the hearts of the men they met, it seemed. He had stood beside Merry and Bergil as they watched the company start out for the Black Gate, and ever since then he had sought out Merry's company as much as possible. The lad was truly a pleasant sort, even wrapped up in his worry for his friends.

Now he was anxious to find the hobbit and compare notes. He had received his news directly from Aragorn, but he hadn't been updated on every person's fate, and he desperately wanted to find out what had happened to Peregrin, the hobbit who had saved his life. He was now making his way to Merry's room.

He stopped just short of knocking on Merry's door. He had heard the faint sound of weeping coming from the other side. Hanging his head for a moment, Faramir felt the sadness descend upon him. It must mean that Merry's little friend had not survived, and that thought was almost more than Faramir could take. Feeling the tears prick in his own eyes, he turned and made to depart.

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Merry heard booted footsteps outside his door, and heard them pause. He jerked upright. Maybe it was Faramir! Merry rushed to the washbasin and splashed cold water onto his face, rubbing the teary grit from his eyes. Hurriedly he wiped his face dry with a towel, and made his way to the door.

"Faramir?" he asked as he opened the door. Faramir was there, but his back was turned to the door. He quickly turned around at Merry's voice.

"Merry? Is all well?"

Merry managed a sad smile. "Well, everyone is alive, but Pippin's been hurt. Come in, Faramir."

Tension seemed to drain from Faramir at Merry's words. "So Master Peregrin is alive? That is good news, Merry! But he is hurt, you say? Tell me all you know."

"Well, it is not much, at this point. Gandalf wrote to me to let me know that all of my friends were alive, but that Pippin had been hurt. He killed a troll, Faramir!" Even in the midst of Merry's anxiety for his cousin, his eyes shone with pride. "He saved Beregond's life! But then he was caught underneath the troll as it fell upon him." At this, Merry's eyes dimmed. "Gandalf says that he has been healing, but that he still has not awakened. He did not go into any detail about the extent of his injuries. I've been told to depart with the supply wains so that I may be there when he awakes. Oh, but you must already know that Frodo and Sam have been returned to us?"

Faramir smiled widely. "Yes, indeed! And that is the best news of all. The Dark Lord has been vanquished, Merry! Can you scarcely believe it to be true?"

Merry smiled. "To be honest, no. I must admit that I did not hold out much hope. I had fairly convinced myself that I would never see any of my friends alive again...not even Aragorn or Gandalf. I am ashamed to say that I had quite despaired. And that made it all the harder for me to be left behind. If it were to be the end, I wanted to meet it side by side with my friends. I feared to be the only one of the fellowship left alive. I would much rather meet my fate with the rest."

"But there is no more need to speak of such things," Faramir said gently. "It is over. Now is a time for rejoicing...and for healing."

"Yes...healing. Which means I must get ready to go to Pippin." Merry looked up at Faramir expectantly. "Are you coming too, Faramir? It would be nice to have a familiar face on the journey...to keep my thoughts from wandering into shadow."

Seeing the look of pain on Merry's face, Faramir gently pressed Merrry's shoulder. "Pippin will live, Merry, doubt it not. That one has an unquenchable spirit that cannot be extinguished so easily." Merry almost grinned at the truth of that. "And I'm afraid that no, I will not be joining you. I must stay here and prepare for the coming of the King."

"The King?" Merry asked, perplexed. "But Theoden is dead. What king do you mean?"

"Do you really not know?" Faramir asked, astonished. "Aragorn, of course; he is the king of Gondor now, or will be as soon as he returns to be crowned. He is Isildur's heir, you know."

Mortified, Merry hung his head. Of course he had known this; it seemed that recent events had muddled his brain more than he thought. "Yes, I do know. I don't know what is wrong with me."

"I do," Faramir said gently. "You have been most distracted, and with good reason. I'm sure that Aragorn would forgive you."

At that, Merry did grin. "It's going to be hard getting used to calling him 'Your Majesty', after calling him Strider for all this time."

Faramir smiled. "I have a feeling he won't allow any of you halflings to even bow to him. He'll probably insist that you still call him Strider."

Merry frowned. "Why do you say so?"

Faramir shook his head fondly. "Merry, don't you know that the four of you are the heroes in this story? Frodo and Sam, above all, for obvious reasons, but you and Pippin as well. You helped to bring down the Witch-King, Merry. His death won the battle of Pelennor Fields for us. And Pippin has played his part as well. Not only did he save my life, but he also proved himself a hero in this last battle. I don't think Aragorn will be making any of you bow to him anytime soon."

Merry smiled slightly. "Well, whether or no, that doesn't change the fact that he is king, and we will have to show him proper respect. And it is past time for me to start packing. I must be ready soon, and ... oh dear, Faramir, I DO hope that Pippin is alright."

Merry's ramblings concerned Faramir. He must be sick with worry, Faramir thought, and he may not even be fully healed yet. Faramir gently looked into Merry's eyes. "Just make sure you sleep well before departure, Master Hobbit. It would not bode well for you to fall sick again during the journey."

"I am no longer sick...it is someone else who needs looking after now. Take care, Faramir, and I will see you again soon."

"Fair journey to you, Merry, and may your friend find peace in your presence."

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The journey just could not go fast enough for Merry. Seven days. Seven days in which to brood, and wonder. Had Pippin woken up by now? Had he ... no, he wouldn't let his thoughts continue in that vein. He closed his eyes, and forced the thought away. It would do him no good to make himself sick with worry, when the best possible news could have already happened. He would not do it to himself any longer.

Keeping his eyes closed, Merry tried to envision the best possible outcome. He would arrive, and Pippin would have been awake for days now, eating and laughing and walking around causing trouble. He would grin at the sight of Merry, come running to throw his arms around him in greeting, kissing his cheek. He would take Merry's hand and lead him to where Frodo and Sam lay in a healing sleep. Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli would all be there...the whole fellowship, save Boromir, together again. Not untouched, but at least together.

Merry smiled as peace washed over him. If only that could be true...Please, let it be true.

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Shakily, Merry disembarked from the ship on wobbly legs. Being a Brandybuck, he was used to the water more than most hobbits, but the last part of this trip had left him quite uncomfortable. His sea legs refused to work on land, and he stumbled onto his knees. Cursing, he pushed himself back up again. He refused to show any sign of weakness right now. His arm was almost fully healed, and he almost felt like himself again.

He looked around with trepidation. Why was no one here to meet him, he thought impatiently. Then he saw the tall, stooped figure making his way toward Merry. He tried to read what was in those unfathomable eyes, but failed. Why did Gandalf have to be so good at hiding his thoughts? It drove Merry mad.

Gandalf strode over and placed a hand on Merry's shoulder. "Meriadoc, well met. It is good to see you again. Come this way." He walked off without waiting for the hobbit to follow. Irritated, Merry grabbed his pack and ran after the wizard.

"Gandalf..." he panted as he ran, and Gandalf held up a hand. "One moment, Merry, while we gain a bit of privacy." Merry's heart lurched. What did they need privacy for, unless...no. It could not be. Please, don't let it be.

Gandalf led Merry into an isolated copse of trees that was well away from the crowd that was arriving. Turning, Gandalf bent down with a hand on Merry's shoulder, and looked into his eyes. Finally, Merry thought he could read some of what Gandalf was going to say. He shuddered. Gandalf's eyes seemed to reflect unfathomable sorrow, and that did nothing to cheer Merry.

"Merry, young Pippin struggles. Strider thought that by now he should at least be coming around, but Pippin has yet to open his eyes." Merry's heart sank at these words. He tried desperately to grasp at some remaining hope, however faint it might be. "He is alive, then," Merry murmured.

Gandalf nodded. "And remember, Merry, that wherever there is life, there is hope. Never forget that."

"Tell me Gandalf, what are his injuries, exactly?"

"Young Peregrin had suffered two broken ribs, a broken arm, and many bruises, including a deep gash on his forehead. It seems that his lungs have been damaged while lying underneath the troll, and that accounts for his troubled breathing." Merry couldn't stop the sorrow from gripping his heart. He clutched at Gandalf's hand and collapsed to his knees. "There, there, my lad...do not give in! I must take you to your young cousin, and then he can feel your touch and hear your voice."

Merry nodded, thought fleeing from his mind as he let Gandalf help him to stand. He locked all thought from his mind, and numbly followed Gandalf. If he didn't think, maybe he wouldn't feel, and then he could cope with the situation. He had to struggle to keep up with Gandalf, and his wobbly legs weren't helping any.

"Merry!" he heard a gruff voice shout. Blankly, Merry turned to face Gimli, who ran over and gave the hobbit a strong hug. "It is so good to see you, Merry! Why, you..." He stopped at the sight of Merry's unseeing, glazed-over eyes. 'Poor lad is in shock' Gimli thought. "Now, Merry, you must not fret so about your cousin. I am the one who found him, and I thought him dead at first. But that stubborn Took will not give up, I tell you. He dare not, after all the pains he has cost me. You and him both," he added fondly.

"Thank you, Gimli, for looking after him for me," Merry said dully. Gimli, hurt and concerned, stepped away so that Merry could continue after Gandalf. He shook his head. "That Took better not die now, and leave Merry in this state. That would be most ungrateful of him." Grumbling, he stalked off in search of Legolas.

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Merry paid no attention to his surroundings as Gandalf led him to Shadowfax. "Alright, lad, I will set you before me and we shall make haste straightway to Pippin's tent. It is not too far." Merry let himself be lifted up in front of Gandalf, and sat listlessly as Gandalf urged Shadowfax into a gallop. He shut out everything and everybody, and descended deep within himself as he let thoughts carry him away to images of Pippin in happier times...times that now seemed so far away.

Merry felt himself rousing. What was wrong with him? He hadn't even thought to ask about Frodo and Sam! Of all the ungrateful...

"Gandalf," he heard himself asking, as if he were listening to someone else's voice, "are Frodo and Sam going to be there too?"

"Yes, indeed," Gandalf replied, relieved to hear Merry's voice. "They will most likely sleep for another few days before awakening. Would you like to see them as well?"

"Of course I would," Merry replied. "It's just that...well, I know now that they will be alright. So I really need to see Pippin first."

"Of course, lad. I wouldn't have expected anything less."

Gandalf's heart went out to the young hobbit perched in front of him. He had always known that hobbit ties ran deep, especially between family members. Merry and Pippin had always been as close as two cousins could be. Only the bond between Bilbo and Frodo rivaled theirs.

And the friendship between Sam and Frodo was equally as strong. Friendship now forged with shared experiences and peril. They had always been close, but this quest had drawn them even closer. The same held true with the two younger hobbits. It would break Gandalf's heart to see that bond shattered by death.

On an impulse, Gandalf reached out to touch Merry's right arm. It seemed colder than it should be, even through the clothes. Heart sinking, Gandalf realized that Merry hadn't completely recovered; he was still vulnerable to the Shadow's touch. All of this worry for Pippin was leaving him open to dark thoughts, which could leave him open to the Black Shadow once again.

So now Pippin needed to recover not only for himself, but for his cousin as well. For if Pippin were to die, Merry would be sure to follow.

"Here we are, Merry," Gandalf said as Shadowfax came to a halt. Gandalf dismounted, and gently lifted Merry onto the ground. "Now, follow me and I'll take you to Peregrin."

"Gandalf..." Merry whispered. He looked up into Gandalf's eyes with pools of tears forming and threatening to spill over.

"Oh, lad," Gandalf said sympathetically, taking the young hobbit into his arms. Merry choked back a sob, and squeezed Gandalf tightly. He closed his eyes as he let Gandalf rock him back and forth, helping to prepare him for a sight he never should have had to see. Breath hitching, Merry finally stopped trembling, and Gandalf released him to look into his eyes. "I am so sorry Merry; it never should have come to this...not ever. I am sorry for that. But Pippin needs you right now, and he needs you to be strong. Alright?"

Merry nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He took a deep breath. "I'm ready," he said.

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Gandalf walked into the tent, holding the flaps open for Merry. As Merry walked inside, he took quick stock of the contents. His eyes roamed over a darkened interior, candles lit here and there. A small cot occupied the center of the tent, upon it an even smaller form. Merry's breath stopped as he took in the sight. Slowly he made his way to his still cousin. His small cousin's right arm was swathed in bandages, and underneath his shirt Merry could see still more bandages. His head had a roll of gauze wrapped completely around it at the forehead, apparently covering some sort of head injury.

Finally Merry was there by Pip's side. He gently took Pippin's good hand in his own, and clasped it to his heart. "Oh, Pippin," Merry breathed, full of pity and fear. With his other hand he stroked Pippin's curls back from his forehead. Pippin's breathing was ragged and uneven. Maybe it was his imagination, but as soon as Merry said Pip's name, the breathing seemed to even out just a bit, and sound less raspy. It has to be my imagination, Merry thought. My voice could not possibly have made that much of a difference. But I'm here now, and I will do what I can.

Gandalf had also noticed the difference, and was heartened by it. More than Merry, he knew what the sound of a voice or a touch could do. It could literally bring someone from the brink of death. He had seen it happen before, and he hoped that he was seeing it once again.

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"Merry."

He didn't even hear the voice speak his name, he was so focused on the face before him. His voice was hoarse and raw from continuous talking, telling stories and singing songs so that Pippin would have some connection to the waking world. He had not eaten in two days, nor had he slept. He had wet his throat a few times, and only then because Aragorn or Gandalf forced it on him. He had helped Aragorn tend to Pippin's bandages, helped rub Pippin's muscles so that they wouldn't atrophy, had helped force moisture down Pippin's unresponsive throat. The only times he had left Pippin's side were when he went to visit Frodo and Sam, who were resting peacefully, and when he relieved himself. As overjoyed as he had been to see his friends alive, he knew that their complete recovery was not in doubt. It was Pippin who really needed him right now.

"Merry." The voice was gently persistent.

Merry struggled to tear his eyes away from Pippin's face. He turned to see Aragorn standing just inside the entrance to the tent. His face was gentle but stern. "Merry, you need to rest..."

"No!" Merry cried softly. "I can't leave him. What if I go to sleep, and when I wake, he's gone?" He almost choked on the last word, and bowed his head in misery.

"Merry, don't you believe me when I tell you that he has improved since you arrived? I know he looks weak and frail, but you have nothing to compare your impression to. You did not see him when he was first found, and thank Eru that you didn't. His breathing has eased considerably since your arrival, and the features of his face have relaxed dramatically. They are no longer pinched with pain and worry. He had heard your voice, and felt your hand within his; believe me. He has murmured somewhat in his dreams, whereas before no sound escaped his lips. If you don't sleep, you will collapse, and what will that do for Pippin?"

Merry knew Aragorn was right; he would be no good to Pippin if he collapsed from exhaustion, or had a relapse of his own sickness. As he thought this, he unconsciously rubbed his right arm. It felt chilled to the touch, and he shivered.

Aragorn frowned. "Merry, does your arm feel cold again?" Merry nodded miserably. "When were you going to tell me this?" Aragorn demanded sternly. "I can do something for it to relieve the discomfort."

"I thought you healed me of this in Minas Tirith?" Merry asked.

"I started you on a healing process, but I told you that you had to be careful in the near future. The shadow does not completely leave so easily. You have to continue to fight it, at least for a little while. Your fear and worry for Peregrin do not help; in fact, I think that's what has set it off again. If you allow yourself to sink into black thoughts, Merry, you could be claimed again, and this time I may not be able to help you." Merry's eyes reflected fear; he had not imagined that the shadow could take hold again.

"Let me use some athelas on it again tonight before you sleep. That will ease your discomfort immensely." Merry nodded in agreement.

"Strider?" Merry asked hopefully.

"Yes, my friend?"

"Can I at least sleep in here with Pippin? Please? I promise I will sleep through the night."

Aragorn smiled. "I think that might be arranged. And I will also see to your arm before you sleep. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Merry visibly relaxed for the first time since he had arrived.

Aragorn arranged to have a small cot brought in and placed next to Pippin's. Then he made Merry lie quietly while he crushed and steeped the athelas leaves until their fragrance filled the tent. He gently lathered the mixture onto Merry's arm and rubbed it from wrist to shoulder, letting the healing potion seep in. He made Merry inhale some of the plant's fragrance, insisting that this would help calm Merry's mind as well as lead to physical healing. Gradually Merry felt his exhaustion creep up on him, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes from slipping shut.

"Rest now, Merry," Aragorn said gently as he unrolled Merry's sleeve back over his arm. Merry's eyes fluttered shut. Aragorn patiently waited until Merry had fallen into a deep, restful sleep...all of five minutes...and then he quietly left the two cousins alone.

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Merry came slightly awake about an hour later. He clasped Pippin's good hand in his, and with his other he leaned over to stroke Pippin's hair. He knew sleep would claim him again shortly, so he savored this moment. The tent was as dark as the night outside, and the air was cool and clean. Softly, Merry whispered, "Pippin. Please, come back to me. I need you, your laughter, your friendship, your cheerful voice talking me into doing anything that you want. I can't live without you, I just can't. You're the light of my life, Pippin." Leaning over, Merry placed a gentle kiss on Pippin's forehead. Sighing, he closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep.

Many hours later, Merry felt himself being brought to the brink of wakefulness by the sound of his name. "Merry," the voice softly whispered, and he thought he could feel someone's fingers briefly stroking his hair and face. He heard other murmuring voices as well, and he wondered who else was in the tent with them. There seemed to be a lot of activity and conversation going on for being the middle of the night. He was so exhausted that he didn't give it much thought. He drifted off for awhile, and then suddenly felt himself come instantly awake. He sat up slightly, and noticed that there were now candles lit in the tent, driving away the darkness. He glanced at Pippin, and was startled to see open green eyes looking at him.

"Pippin?" he gasped, not believing what he was seeing. Merry instantly sat up all the way, and took Pippin's hand in both of his. "Pippin, how do you feel?" he asked. Pippin mouthed Merry's name, apparently not having the strength to say it out loud.

Pippin's eyes suddenly clouded with pain, and Merry's heart filled with icy fear. Pippin gasped with the struggle to breathe. Finally, he managed a whispered, "Merry, I'm scared, I'm so scared...please, hold me." Merry gently scooted closer to where both beds met, and tenderly hugged Pippin close to his chest, resting his chin on his head. Closing his eyes, he tried to quell the terror that threatened to overwhelm him. He gently rubbed Pippin's shoulders and neck in an effort to calm his young cousin.

Merry wondered if he should run and fetch Strider, but he thought Strider had probably done all he could by now, and that what Pippin needed the most was the comforting presence of his best friend. So Merry lay there, holding Pippin and listening to his labored breathing. Pippin felt warm with fever, and he was trembling with a slight chill. Merry quickly covered both of them with his blankets.

He didn't know how long he had lain there when he felt Pippin's breathing change. Concerned, he looked down into that beloved face, and saw that Pippin's eyes were searching his out; eyes that shone with tenderness and love. "Merry..." Pippin whispered. He reached up and stroked Merry's cheek. "I had to wait for you...so that I could be with you one last time." He closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath and regain some strength. "I don't want to die Merry, but it hurts badly, and I'm just so tired. Please forgive me, Merry, but I just can't fight anymore." Tears welled in his eyes, and he whispered, "I love you like a brother, Merry. I'm sorry that I waited until now to tell you." Now the tears were streaming down Pippin's cheeks. "I'm sorry to be causing you so much pain. I know that if it were you lying here, that my heart would be ripped out of my chest. I never meant to be the cause of your misery."

Merry was now sobbing openly. "No, Pippin, no! If you go, I'll surely follow you. I won't be left behind; I won't! Please...please, don't leave me." His eyes pleaded with Pippin's as he brought Pippin's hand up and gently placed a kiss there.

Pippin could no longer reply; he didn't have the strength to say anything more. His breathing steadily became more labored with every breath. His eyes never left Merry's, as Merry continuously stroked his face and hair. Finally, Merry cupped Pippin's chin in his hand, leaned down and briefly touched his lips to Pippin's. Merry lifted his head to look into Pippin's eyes. "I love you," he whispered.

"Merry," Pippin whispered with his last exhalation, and then his breathing stilled. His eyes were still fixed on Merry's face, but those eyes which had once been bright green were now dull and unseeing.

Merry started trembling violently. "No," he whispered, embracing Pippin tighter, holding his small body as he buried his face in Pippin's shoulder. No longer concerned with avoiding Pippin's injuries and bruises, he crushed him to his chest. Overwhelmed with anguish and grief, he screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

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Gasping, he woke to find sunlight filtering into the tent. He was gripping his right arm and drenched in sweat. His arm felt like a thousand icicles were piercing it. Had he been dreaming, or had he fainted after Pippin...

He turned to look at the cot next to him. It was empty.

Merry closed his eyes. So it hadn't been a dream; he had held Pippin as he had taken his last breath. Merry must have swooned, and sometime during the night someone must have found Pippin's lifeless body and taken it away. Indescribable anguish cascaded through his body once again.

Shuddering, he stopped the sob from escaping his lips. A feeling of numbness and detachment descended upon him. He lay back down on the bed, back facing Pippin's cot, and closed his eyes. He would just go to sleep and never get up again, he decided. He didn't want to deal with the pain of life without Pippin, so he wouldn't. He actually felt peace start to settle over him. Sighing, he started to mentally say farewell to those remaining behind. I'm sorry, Frodo, he said to himself. I'm sorry I couldn't stay to say goodbye. Strider, thank you for all that you have done and tried to do. Gandalf...then his mind shut off and he drifted endlessly.

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Gandalf strode toward Merry and Pippin's tent, squinting into the sun. It was just past noon; Merry should have gotten plenty of rest by now, and should be awakening. He stepped into the tent and saw that Merry was curled on his side, apparently asleep. Smiling fondly, Gandalf softly walked over and made to shake Merry awake. He stopped as he bent over and got a good look at Merry's face. It was ashen gray, and his lips were tinged with blue. Starting to panic, Gandalf put his hand in front of Merry's mouth. There was a shallow exhalation...and then several seconds before the next one. Alarmed, Gandalf touched Merry's arm, and almost cried aloud at the chill. He bolted from the tent and ran into the healing pavilion. "Aragorn," he shouted, "Come quickly, Merry has taken deathly ill." Alarmed, Aragorn passed on the patient he was tending to another healer, and ran with Gandalf back to Pippin's tent.

Shoving Pippin's cot aside, he kneeled at Merry's side and tenderly turned him over onto his back. "The Black Breath," he said soberly. "It's almost as bad as when he first stabbed the Witch-King. Gandalf, please get me some athelas and some hot water, quickly! And make sure none of Merry's friends are witness to this." Understanding, Gandalf left with a determined step.

Aragorn looked into Merry's face and stroked the hobbit's forehead. "What has caused this, Merry?" he asked gently. "Something has taken hold of your mind. Well, I won't let it keep you, Merry, I swear. I'll call you back if it takes all of my remaining strength." Grimly, Aragorn rubbed Merry's arm and waited for Gandalf's return.

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Merry's breathing was harsh and ragged. He was desperately trying to stay where he was, and not respond to the insistent voice that was trying to bring him back. Leave me alone! he thought. I don't want to return...there's nothing there for me anymore. Just let me be! Suddenly, he sensed the presence of a bright spirit, something that he had thought extinguished. Intrigued, he started struggling toward that presence, almost unwillingly.

"That's right, Merry," Aragorn's voice cajoled. "Come back! Leave the shadow, and return to those that love you." Placing his palm on Merry's forehead, he felt the first stirrings of consciousness. He kept sending mental images of the only one to whom Merry would return. Aragorn had never felt such resistance before, especially from a hobbit. Usually the hobbits' well-known stubbornness would help to bring them back to life, but in this case, apparently the hobbit's will had other ideas.

Finally, a groan escaped Merry's lips, and he started to move restlessly. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Glancing around, feeling a sense of expectation that he did not understand, he noticed that there was no trace of Pippin's cot. It was as if he had never been. What then came out of his mouth was the last thing Aragorn had expected. "Why did you bring me back?" he asked miserably. Gulping back despair, he said accusingly, "All you have brought me back to is pain, Strider. I just wanted to be left alone!"

Aragorn stared. "Merry, what is wrong with you?" he asked. "Don't you remember? Pippin woke up last night..."

"Yes, Strider, I know!" Merry fairly yelled.

"Then why..."

"I held him as he drew his last breath! I was there when he entered this world, and I was with him when he left. He..."

Aragorn rested his fingertips lightly upon Merry's lips, halting the flow of words. "Merry," he said gently, "Pippin isn't dead."

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Stunned silence. "What did you say?"

"Pippin is alive."

"B-but I saw him! I held him! I watched him die, Strider!"

Aragorn shook his head. "No, Merry...I believe the shadow placed dark thoughts into your dreams while you were sleeping. He is most certainly not dead."

"Then where is he?" Merry demanded. "Why was he not in his cot when I awoke earlier, and why is even his cot missing now?"

"Calm down, Merry. I will explain everything."

Merry fell back weakly, feeling like all of the breath had been knocked out of him. "Tell me what happened, Strider," he begged.

"Pippin woke up while you were asleep last night. Gandalf had been keeping watch over the both of you; you know how fond he is of his little ones. Although weak and in pain, Pippin was quite alert, and quite hungry." Merry's mouth quirked at this. "You were so exhausted that you slept right through our activity, although we did try to be very quiet so as not to disturb you."

"I actually did hear some people talking and moving about, but I thought I was dreaming."

"Ah. Well, when Pippin realized you were right there beside him, he was overjoyed, of course. He immediately wanted to wake you. We told him no, that you were exhausted from keeping watch at his bedside and desperately needed your sleep. He was disappointed, of course. We allowed him to touch your face, and that soft contact was enough to wake you up briefly. You looked at him, smiled and said 'Hullo Pip. How are you feeling?' Pippin grinned back and replied, 'Better now that you're here.' 'That's good,' you said, before promptly falling back to sleep again. That's how fatigued you were. It never crossed my mind that you wouldn't remember."

"I felt it," Merry whispered. "I felt his touch in my sleep. I must have been just on the edge of waking up."

"Well, we reassured him that he was going to be alright, and gave him medicine, water and broth, since his stomach can't take anything more at this point. After all that, he was once again exhausted and ready to sleep. So we left the two of you to your slumber. We woke Pippin up at 11 this morning for his medicine. He was feeling a bit more refreshed by that point, so we decided to take him to the healing tent and give him a bath, change his bandages and put him into some fresh clothes. That is why his cot was empty." Aragorn paused for a moment. "Did you wake right after you dreamed that Pippin had...passed on?"

Merry nodded. "I didn't know if I had been dreaming, or if I had fainted from grief. When I saw the empty cot, I thought the latter."

"Of course you would. It would only follow." Aragorn smiled sympathetically. "What happened after that?"

"I thought Pippin was dead," he said flatly, as if that explained everything. "I decided I would just go to sleep and never wake up. Then you called me back. I didn't want to come, but I could sense a presence...something I wanted to get back to, although I didn't know what it was. I do now." He looked at Aragorn sheepishly. "When I woke up again, I was looking for something...and when I didn't see Pippin's cot, I knew what it was. Why is Pippin's cot gone, by the way?"

"Gandalf came to wake you up, and found you on death's door, with your arm chilled to the bone. He summoned me while I was in the middle of my ministrations with Pippin. I left him with another healer and came to you. When I saw what was wrong, I told Gandalf to make sure to keep your friends away while I called you back. Not only would it terribly upset them, I needed to be sure I didn't have any distractions and that all my focus could be on you. So Pippin's cot was brought to my tent so that he could recover in peace while I tended to you." At this, Aragorn frowned. "Merry, you wouldn't have died; you would have been claimed by the shadow. I'm afraid it would have been a fate worse than life without Pippin."

Merry shuddered. "Thank goodness, then, that it didn't happen. Or I should say, thank YOU." Merry smiled. "Thank you, Strider, for not letting me go. And thank you also for bringing Pippin back to us."

Aragorn smiled. "Actually, it was your presence that made the difference, Merry. As soon as you got here, he steadily improved, and now he is awake."

Being reminded that Pippin was conscious somewhere close by made Merry excited, anxious and nervous all at once. "Please, take me to him!"

"I will do better than that; I will bring him back here. You need to rest a bit after your ordeal. I will bring him to you now." With that, Aragorn strode from the tent.

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It had been an exhausting day for Pippin. Waking up to so many hurts after so long...he had been unconscious for 10 days. Being reunited with all of his friends had been very emotionally draining, as well as physically tiring. He hadn't been able to eat any solid food yet, but he heartily ate the soup that was made for him. And he wasn't about to let Merry out of his sight for one second. Not that Merry minded one bit. He didn't have much choice anyway, being relegated to bed rest for the remainder of the day by an insistent Aragorn.

Now, Pippin was nestling secure in his cousin's arms as he slept a deep, dreamless sleep. Merry watched him as he slept, thankful that he was resting so peacefully due to Aragorn's potions. He stroked Pippin's cheek as he watched, tears of gratitude forming in his eyes. He whispered quietly, "Do you know how much you mean to me?" He was silent for a few minutes. "Why can I only tell you these things while you're sleeping or while I'm dreaming?" he sighed. He was just beginning to realize that some things were better left unsaid. He knew Pippin's heart, and Pippin knew what was in Merry's; no words needed to be exchanged for such feelings to be expressed. Sighing contentedly, Merry kissed Pippin's forehead, then closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

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EPILOGUE

Decades later, back in the Shire...after a lifetime of living, loved ones come and gone, early memories beginning to fade...Merry still felt that Pippin was his anchor to the world. He had been the only constant in Merry's life, ever since the time of his birth when Merry was eight years old. Parents had come and gone, as had their spouses. Most of their friends had either passed on or crossed the sea. They had their sons, but these sons had their own lives to live. And yet here they were, the both of them, still companions and best friends. Merry stole a glance at Pippin, riding beside him on his pony. He really hadn't changed that much during all this time. He could still fit into his original Gondorian uniform, although he wasn't wearing it today. His golden curls had streaks of gray in them now, and his bright emerald eyes had faded just a bit over the years. He was still the same old Pippin, though; mischievous, curious, a bit childlike, and often talkative. Right now, however, he wasn't talkative in the least. He had been quite silent during this little sojourn they had taken into the countryside surrounding Buckland.

These walks were something they did quite often when they wanted to give their ponies some extra exercise, and when they wanted to spend some time alone. There was something different about this time, Merry sensed. Pippin seemed to want to talk to Merry about something, but somehow he wasn't finding the right words to begin. Merry decided he would help things along a little.

"Pippin?" he asked gently. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Pippin stopped his pony and turned to gaze at Merry. There was a sadness in his eyes that Merry was surprised to see. "Merry, I can no longer stay in the Shire. There are too many memories here that won't let me move on. I miss Diamond..." He paused as he tried to swallow past a lump in his throat. "And now that she's gone, and Faramir is grown, I can't keep the memories at bay any longer."

Pippin didn't need to say which memories he was talking about. Merry knew. They couldn't go anywhere in the Shire without being confronted with memories of Frodo. Even Brandy Hall was tainted, as Frodo had lived there after his parents died until he went to live with Bilbo. Even after he moved away, he would still visit often. Frodo had always been there throughout their childhood, a favorite cousin to both of them. As they grew out of childhood, they both had remained fast friends with Frodo. It had torn both their hearts out, as well as Sam's, when Frodo left with Bilbo and Gandalf. They had grieved for a long time, taking comfort in each other's presence at Crickhollow. Eventually the scars over their hearts had slowly healed. They both found someone to fall in love with, and they had thrown themselves into their families and into their roles as Thain and Master of Buckland.

But it was different now. Sam's Rosie had passed on, and even with all of his children around for comfort, he found he couldn't stay in the Shire, so he followed Frodo over the sea. Another bitter parting, and another dear friend lost.

So Merry understood. He nodded, and asked, "So where do you plan to go?"

"I was thinking of returning to Gondor, and taking up my service in the citadel once again. It would be wonderful to see Aragorn again...perhaps even Legolas and Gimli. I just know I can no longer stay here." He raised his eyes to Merry's. He asked softly, "Will you come with me, Merry?"

Merry drew in his breath as he saw the unspoken plea in those emerald eyes as they rested on him. This was just another example of how he and Pippin could tell each other what needed to be said without words. This time, if Pippin left the Shire, it would be for good. He wouldn't be coming back. For Pippin to find peace, he had to leave. And yet another truth was written in those eyes as well; that if Merry decided to remain behind, so would Pippin. For Pippin needed Merry more than he needed peace.

Pippin hung his head in shame. He had no right to do this to Merry. Merry loved the Shire; he had found peace in the green fields, orchard trees and sparkling streams. He had grandchildren that he loved dearly and doted on. He should never have asked Merry to come with him. He stammered, "I---I'm sorry, Mer, I..."

Merry nudged his pony closer to Pippin's, reached out and cupped Pippin's chin in his hand, forcing Pippin to look at him. "Pippin," he said gently, "don't you know that wherever you are, that is where my home is? It doesn't matter if it's here, in Gondor, or in the depths of Moria itself. I might draw the line at Mordor." That forced a grin from Pippin. Merry smiled. "You've followed me everywhere our whole lives. This time, I'll follow you. I don't want to be anywhere that you aren't. If Gondor is where you want to go, then that is what we'll do."

Relief practically exuded from Pippin. He smiled weakly at Merry. "Thank you, Merry," he said tremulously. "I could never leave you behind, you know...not ever."

"Oh, but you have; twice, as I recall. Don't you remember? Of course, it was a very long time ago; perhaps age has fogged your mind..."

"Oh, Merry! As you well know, I had no choice in the matter, either time." His playful manner subsided as he glanced at Merry. "And both times nearly ended in tragedy, for both of us, didn't they?" Of course; the first time, their separation had ended with Merry badly wounded from stabbing the Witch-King. The second time...Merry still had nightmares about that second time, when Pippin had very nearly been taken from him. Pippin continued. "That should have taught us that it's never a good idea for us to be separated; bad things tend to happen when we are. We need to look out for each other...just like you looked out for me after my battle with the troll. If you hadn't come to me when you did, Merry, I think I might have died."

In all seriousness, Merry replied, "Pippin, if you had died then, I would have also. But that's neither here nor there." His hand reached for Pippin's, and Pippin clasped it. "I will go with you to Gondor, and anywhere else you feel the need to wander. I can live without anything or anyone else...except for you."

Pippin squeezed Merry's hand before releasing it. "You better be careful, Mer...people will start saying that we're in love."

Merry laughed. "Well, I for one don't really care what people say, since we'll never be seeing them again anyway. Let's start laying our plans, so that we can leave before the summer's end. I don't want to be traveling in the dead of winter...again."

Pippin snorted. "Indeed not. This time I intend to actually enjoy our little trip." A thrill of anticipation ran through him, and he could hardly wait to set things in motion. "Race you to the Hall, Merry!" he said with youthful exuberance, as if he was still in his tweens, and Merry laughed as he spurred his pony after Pippin's. It was good to be alive, especially when you were in the company of your very best friend.


End file.
